Night of Silence
by Dragon MoonX
Summary: Scabior has to have his tonsils taken out on Christmas morning. He thinks the surgery will ruin his holiday. But with his family's love and support, he soon learns that Christmas isn't about the gifts you give from a store, but the ones you give from the heart. Part four in a series of four.
1. Chapter 1

**Night of Silence**

Disclaimer: I'm not Rowling and I don't own her characters. However the OCs are mine.

Thanks again to my friend Anna Fay for her great ideas and inspiration. Melody now has a gift for her dad, and a few choice words on her daddy's diet thanks to you. As always, you've been a big help, Anna. Thank you.

 _This story is part four in a series of four known as Scabior's Rose - In Sickness and In Health._  
 _The others are, in order, Love's Healing Touch, Complicated Healing and Fevers & Fears._

* * *

"Open up, Scabior. That's it. Now say 'ah.'"

"Aahhh..."

Scabior opened his mouth, allowing the light from his wife's wand to shine onto his throat, revealing the most decorative tonsil infection Draconius had ever seen.

Draconius sighed, frowning at what she saw as she examined his throat. "This is the sixth time you've come down with tonsillitis this year, Scabior. You used to average three cases a year. But it's getting worse, and these infections are coming on more frequently."

A low groan escaped Scabior's lips as his wife adjusted the angle of her wand, pressing down on his tongue with a tongue depressor to get a better look at his throat.

Of all the times for him to get sick, Scabior just had to come down with tonsillitis three days before Christmas. Which meant that he wouldn't be eating the roast beef his wife cooked for Christmas dinner, or any of the other tasty treats she made during the holidays.

Draconius extinguished the light in her wand, then reached for her medical bag and bought out a small, glass spray bottle filled with a milky white potion.

"I can't get sick now," Scabior whispered hoarsely. "Christmas is in three days."

"I've told you before, Scabior. You need to have your tonsils taken out," said Draconius. "They should have come out years ago. And as long as they remain comfortably nestled in the back of your throat, you're going to keep getting sick," she added, lightly jabbing him in the neck with her wand. "Now open up."

Scabior opened his mouth, and his wife sprayed the potion onto the back of his throat several times.

Over the years, Draconius had had to get creative when treating her husband's frequent throat infections. She'd invented a pain relieving throat spray, one specially designed to ease the pain and inflammation associated with chronic tonsillitis. This potion not only helped ease some of Scabior's discomfort but it also brought in some extra money, as Draconius had secured a patent on the potion, which was now selling in stores throughout most of England.

When she was finished, Draconius set the spray bottle on the nightstand. "You can use that as often as needed to relieve the pain," she told him. "Just remember to hold it in your mouth for as long as possible before swallowing."

Scabior sighed, watching as his wife brought out two more potion bottles from her medical bag. He knew the routine well by now. First the throat spray, then potions for the infection and to keep his fever under control. After that Draconius made him comfortable, placing a damp washcloth on his forehead and sitting with him for a while until he got tired and fell asleep.

After he'd taken his potions and settled down to sleep, Draconius left their bedroom so he could get some rest. As she was leaving their bedroom, Draconius passed their daughter, who was standing in the hallway with her hands in her pockets and her back against the wall.

Melody was fourteen now. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail, with streaks of purple and pink trailing down the side. She was wearing pink plaid pants, and a long white shirt that had a pink heart and silver spirals on the front.

She looked up as her mother passed. "Is dad gonna be alrigh', mum?"

Her accent wasn't as thick as her father's. But over the years she had picked up some of his accent, making her speech somewhat similar to her father's.

"He'll be fine, Melody. Though he'll probably be spending Christmas in bed, drinking soup instead of eating fruitcake."

Melody waited until her mother had left the hall before turning and making her way towards her parents bedroom. She had just put her hand on the doorknob when she heard her mother call out, "Stay out of there, Melody. I don't want you catching what your father has."

The teenager sighed and rolled her eyes. "Wha'ever," she muttered, and opened the door anyway.

Despite what her mother told her about staying out of the bedroom when Scabior was sick, Melody always snuck off to visit her father and keep him company when he wasn't feeling well. She'd started doing this as a toddler, climbing into bed and crawling towards him.

She could tell when something was wrong, even at a young age, and would whine and fuss until her mother let her in the room with Scabior. She would then curl up like a puppy, sleeping next to her sick father. And if Draconius tried to move her, Melody would wake up and start screaming, throwing a tantrum if she couldn't be next to her father.

Melody opened the door, closing it quietly behind her as she entered the bedroom. Scabior wasn't asleep yet, and he opened his eyes when he heard his daughter enter and approach the bed.

"Melody," he rasped, a small smile spreading across his face as she sat down on the foot of the bed. Having his daughter around was the one thing that would always cheer him up no matter how bad he felt.

They began a conversation, with Melody doing most of the talking so Scabior wouldn't make his throat hurt worse. She talked for several minutes while Scabior listened, occasionally nodding or shaking his head in response to her questions.

They'd done this so many times throughout the years that it had become a father/daughter bonding ritual for them. Melody would talk for an hour or two until Scabior got tired and fell asleep. He'd listen to her for hours if he could stay awake long enough, listening as she shared stories about school and the friends she'd made at Hogwarts.

Eventually the conversation strayed to other topics, and Scabior made an effort to speak, keeping his voice at a low whisper as he spoke. His voice was so faint and hoarse that Melody had to scoot closer to him on the bed so she could hear what he was saying.

"I'm surprised they 'aven't fired me from my job at the ministry," he said, pausing briefly as he rubbed his throat. "I keep taking off work from being sick. I don't know 'ow much longer I can keep this up before I lose my job."

"They won't fire you," said Melody. "They know better than to fire the most dependable person that rounds up more mudbloods than anyone else. You do a damn good job, dad. And they know that."

Scabior allowed himself a small smile. "Tha's true," he said, adjusting the damp washcloth on his forehead.

"Here. Let me get that for you," said Melody, taking the washcloth and refreshing it in the bowl of water on the nightstand. "It's probably warmed up by now anyway."

"You better watch it," Scabior rasped. "You keep tha up an you're liable to become a 'ealer like your mum."

Melody rolled her eyes and scoffed at the idea. "Seriously, dad? You really think I'd want to work the same boring job that mum has?"

"You don't want to be a 'ealer?"

"No."

Scabior's smile widened. "Then there's 'ope for you yet, sweet'eart."

.oOo.

One day faded into the next. Scabior stayed in bed and rested, while his daughter continued sneaking in to visit him every chance she got.

Sometimes the rebellious teen would drop down and hide under the bed when she heard her mother's footsteps approaching from down the hall. Her humorous antics never failed to amuse her father, who would have laughed if it didn't make his throat hurt worse.

Melody knew what she was doing, saying things like "incoming" or "hit the deck" before diving under the bed. She knew her father didn't feel well, and she was trying her best to take his mind off his discomfort. Which Scabior greatly appreciated, because in his mind there was nothing worse than being sick during the holidays.

It was now Christmas eve. The skies were grey, with bruised and darkened clouds hanging low in the sky, blocking out the sun. Snow was falling outside as Melody stood at the window, watching the white flakes falling silently from the heavens.

She looked over at her father, who was asleep in bed. He was lying on his back, his mouth open slightly as he slept, and he had begun to snore.

Scabior's breathing broke and hitched in strange rhythms, his snoring becoming progressively louder. There was a loud, snuffling snort, followed by silence when he suddenly stopped breathing.

Melody quickly went over to the bed and put her hand on her father's shoulder. "Dad," she said, shaking him gently. "Dad, wake up."

Scabior choked and gasped, coming awake with a start as he fought to draw air into his lungs. His daughter stood back, watching as he sat up in bed, coughing and gasping for several seconds until he could breathe again.

She looked at him with concern. "What's wrong, dad? Are you alright?"

"My throat..." Scabior croaked. "Sometimes I can't breathe... My throat closes up on me."

"Maybe you should let mum take a look at you. Maybe she can give you a stronger potion."

"There's nothing she can give me. She's tried five different types of anti-infection potions. But they don't work on me like they used to." Scabior sighed. He looked utterly miserable. "Nothing works on me like it used to..."

Although she wouldn't admit it, Melody was worried about her father. She'd seen him sick several times throughout her life, but this past year had been the worst. Scabior wasn't responding well to the potions Draconius gave him. There were times when his wife had to try several types of potions before she found one that worked.

He was staying sick longer and getting sick more often, until it reached the point where the overall quality of his life and health had been effected by near constant infections.

He leaned back against the mound of pillows in bed. He closed his eyes, and was just about to fall asleep, when something dawned on him.

"Oh shit..." he groaned, clapping a hand over his face.

"What?" Melody looked at him with a confused expression on her young face. "What's wrong?"

"I forgot to get your mother a Christmas present," Scabior replied, his voice cracking as his words grated hoarsely against his sore throat.

"So what are you going to do? You're sick. You can't go out like this."

"Yes, I can." There was a strong note of determination in his tone, despite the overall rasping quality of his voice.

Scabior eased the covers off and sat up on the side of the bed. He reached for his leather jacket, which was hanging up on the bedpost, and slipped it on. His plaid scarf was also hanging on the bedpost, and he snatched it up, wrapping it around his neck several times.

Melody's mouth opened in shock as she watched her father getting dressed. She stood there, staring at him in disbelief, before she finally found her voice and could speak.

"You're not seriously thinking about going out now, are you?"

"You 'ave a better idea?" he snapped, tying a knot in the plaid material so his scarf remained snug around his neck. "I'm not letting your mother go without a gift on Christmas." He then decided that his scarf was on too tight, and loosened it a little.

"But you can't," Melody insisted. "You shouldn't be out of bed. You shouldn't even be talking. And it's snowing outside. If you go out in that mess you're liable to catch pneumonia."

Scabior frowned. "You sound like your mum when you say tha."

There was nothing Melody could do as she watched her father lace up his boots and slip the bottle of throat spray into the pocket of his jacket. She knew there was no way she could stop him from going out in the cold to look for a gift for her mother. Which meant there was only one thing left to do.

"If you're leaving then I'm coming with you," she announced suddenly, just as Scabior was about to head out the door.

Scabior paused, his hand halfway to the doorknob. He turned slowly, looking back at her. He considered her for a moment before speaking.

"No, Melody. I need you to stay 'ere an keep your mother distracted while I'm gone."

"We're doing this together," said Melody. "You're not leaving without me, dad."

She could be so forceful sometimes, so strong, so demanding and determined to get her way. Though he wasn't surprised by this. Scabior knew that, with her mother's stubbornness and his attitude, she was bound to inherit at least some of these qualities. He'd seen it in her when she was younger. And now that Melody was a teenager, her wild, fiery personality had become more pronounced than it was during her childhood.

"An wha 'appens when your mother comes looking for us an finds tha we're gone?" Scabior asked.

His throat was killing him, and it hurt like hell to talk. Scabior knew he shouldn't be out of bed, he knew he shouldn't strain his voice to speak. The raw, burning pain in the back of his throat intensified with every word he spoke. But he refused to let his wife go without a gift on Christmas. Sick or not, Scabior was going to get her a present.

"Who cares what mum thinks when she finds us missing?" said Melody. "We'll be long gone by then. And when we come back, carrying loads of presents for her, there's no way she'll stay mad at us."

"I don't know," said Scabior, sounding somewhat doubtful. "I think you underestimate your mother's ability to 'old a grudge."

Melody turned and suddenly darted out of the room, leaving her father standing there wondering where she had gone. She returned moments later, wearing her leather jacket and a pair of black, fingerless gloves.

Despite his pain and illness, Scabior couldn't help but smile at his little girl.

"Protection charms," said Melody, grinning as she pointed at the black leather. "Just in case mum gets seriously pissed at us."

"Melody?"

Scabior and Melody both turned as they heard Draconius coming down the hall.

"Melody, what are you doing in there? I told you not to bother your father when he's sick. He needs his rest."

"The window!" Melody cried, running to the window and yanking it open. "Come on, dad! Let's go!"

Scabior hesitated, listening as his wife approached the door. Melody paused, already halfway out the window, glancing back over her shoulder at her father.

"Dad!" she called out to him. "Come on!"

But Scabior held back, wondering if he could actually do this. He had a fever, and had begun to sweat since getting out of bed. On top of that he'd been sick for the better half of two months. Ear infections, the flu, and countless sore throats had taken their toll on him, leaving him miserable and weak.

"Dad!" Melody shouted one final time before diving out the window.

The doorknob began to turn, and in a flash Scabior turned and bolted out the window, running after his daughter who was almost halfway across the lawn.

Draconius flung the door open just in time to catch a glimpse of her husband going out the window in his jacket and plaid pajama bottoms. She ran to the window and stuck her head out, watching as her husband and daughter sprinted across the snow covered lawn.

"Dammit, Scabior!" Draconius shouted. "You get back here right now. Or so help me, I'll pull your blasted tonsils out through your nose!"

But it was too late. Scabior had grabbed his daughter's hand, and vanished on the spot with her once they were past the apparition boundary that surrounded their home.


	2. Chapter 2

Scabior stumbled, falling to his knees in the snow, pulling his daughter down with him. He let go of Melody, one hand pressed into the cold snow, the other holding his throat as he gasped and wheezed, trying to catch his breath.

This was why Scabior feared losing his job. He knew he couldn't run and breathe like he used to. And in a job where running was an essential part of his work, Scabior knew that if he couldn't keep up with the rest of his men and do his job, he was likely to get fired.

"Dad, are you alright?" Melody asked, crawling towards him in the snow.

"Yes," he gasped breathlessly, his chest heaving as he fought to draw air into his lungs. He coughed harshly. "One moment..."

He sounded like he was choking. This was the worst she'd ever seen him. And as she watched her father struggling to breathe, she began to understand why her mother kept saying that Scabior needed to have his tonsils removed.

Even when he wasn't sick, Scabior still had difficulty breathing, swallowing, and sleeping. No matter what kind of potions his wife tried, his throat was almost always swollen and sore, making everything he did a constant struggle. He spent so much energy just trying to breathe that he had little strength left for anything else.

"I don't know about this," said Melody, her brow creasing with worry. "Maybe mum was right. Maybe you really should have your tonsils taken out."

"I don't need surgery," Scabior managed between labored breaths. "I'm fine."

"Seriously, dad? Because you sure don't look fine to me."

Scabior gathered the last of his strength and pushed himself onto his feet, swaying slightly as he stood up. He was running on empty, and he knew this, but he refused to give up. He wiped the sweat off his fevered brow with the back of his hand, still breathing heavily through his mouth as he looked around.

They had landed half a mile outside of Hogsmeade, the snow falling around them as they stood on the edge of the woods.

A smug smile spread across the flushed features of Scabior's face. He was quite pleased with himself. Because despite being sick, he'd still managed to bring them to the correct destination.

"Come on," he said, his harsh, ragged breath steaming in the weak December sun as he marched off through the snow towards the village.

Melody scurried through the snow, kicking up a flurry of white powder as she got to her feet and followed him. "So how long do you think we have before mum finds out where we've gone?" she asked. "I can't imagine her being pleased to see that we've run off like this."

For a while Scabior was silent, one hand massaging his throat as he walked through the snow. "She won't find us," he whispered, each word grating like jagged razors against his sore throat. "Although she may 'ave learned a few of my tracking spells from spending so much time with me in the woods."

"And how are we going to pay for mum's present? I don't have any money. And I don't think you brought any gold with you."

"They know I'm good for it," Scabior rasped hoarsely, still rubbing his throat. "They can put it on my tab."

Melody winced, hissing through her clenched teeth as she heard his voice crack. "Doesn't it hurt your throat to talk?"

"I'm used to it, pet." He then reached into his pocket and brought out the spray bottle filled with milky white potion his wife made for him.

Scabior opened his mouth and sprayed the potion onto the back of his throat, drenching the inflamed tissues with the cool, soothing potion. It brought him little relief. But these days a little relief was better than nothing.

His daughter looked at him in disbelief. "You're used to it?"

Scabior nodded.

Melody sighed. She could tell from looking at him that he was miserable. He might have been used to it, but he certainly wasn't enjoying himself.

Scabior was more stubborn than a mule, and possessed a great deal of strength and mental fortitude. He could endure great amounts of pain without so much as blinking an eye. For him to show any signs of being in pain meant that he had to be really suffering. This worried Melody, for she knew that whatever Scabior showed on the outside was bound to be ten times worse on the inside.

They continued into the village, walking the snow covered streets, searching for a store that was still open. Sometimes a few of the stores would stay open for a couple hours on Christmas eve, allowing customers to do some last minute shopping. But everywhere they went they were met with closed doors and "closed" signs propped up in the windows.

Scabior swore under his breath, looking from one set of closed doors to another. "Do you know wha time it was when we left?"

Melody shrugged. "I don't know. Probably around two in the afternoon, I guess."

"Damn." Scabior turned in a circle, glancing around at the closed buildings on either side of the street. They'd left so late in the day that everything was probably closed by now. And in an hour or two it was going to start getting dark outside.

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, his tangled tresses wet with perspiration. He was shaking with feverish chills, and he was beginning to feel the familiar sensation of tightness closing around his throat.

He tugged at his scarf until the plaid material hung loose around his neck. "Come on, Melody," he whispered. "There 'as to be something tha's still open."

"Dad, are you sure you're alright?" Melody asked. She could see that his breathing had become labored, each shallow gasp costing him a great deal of pain and effort.

Scabior turned to her, his mouth slightly open and his breath rasping harshly in his throat. He swallowed, wincing at the pain this caused, and nodded.

They continued searching the village for several minutes, but everywhere they turned everything was closed.

"There's nothing open, dad," said Melody. "We might as well go home." She then stopped when she realized her father was no longer walking beside her.

She turned around and saw Scabior leaning with one hand pressed against the side of a building, his other hand clutching his chest as he doubled over, gasping for breath. She ran to him just as he began to slide down the side of the building into the snow. He collapsed into her arms, his strength failing as his vision began to blur.

"Melody..." he gasped, his hand closing around the front of her jacket as he clung to her. "I...I can't...I can't breathe..."

The young witch began to panic. She wasn't a healer like her mother, and she hadn't the slightest idea what she should do. He let go of her jacket, his body going limp in her arms as he sank onto the ground, and for a moment Melody feared he was either going to lose consciousness or die right there in front of her.

Suddenly there came the sound of footsteps approaching from down the street. Melody looked up and felt her already racing heart skip a beat as her mother came running towards them.

Melody quickly stepped aside, getting out of the way as her mother knelt beside Scabior in the snow. Draconius eased him up into a sitting position, making him lean forward as she placed the tip of her wand between his shoulder blades.

" _Anapneo respiro,_ " said Draconius, and within seconds Scabior began to cough, his breathing eased somewhat as he inhaled several deep, rasping breaths.

"Mum!" Melody exclaimed. "How on earth did you find us?"

"How did I find you?" Draconius snapped. "I think a better question would be how the bloody hell did you two manage this?" she said, motioning with her hand towards Scabior, who was still coughing and wheezing. "And why is he out of bed? Your father is very sick. He can't be running all over the place in the shape he's in."

She sounded thoroughly annoyed with the both of them. But more than anything she was amazed that Scabior had the strength to apparate all the way to Hogsmeade with his teenaged daughter in tow.

Draconius looked back at her husband, her features softening as he groaned and leaned against her, his breathing loud and harsh in her ears as he rested his head against her shoulder. She smoothed his hair out of his face, her hand lingering on his forehead as she felt how hot he was. He was positively burning with fever, his face was flushed, and his tangled red and brown hair clung to his cheeks and neck in loose, wet strands.

Scabior closed his eyes, his body relaxing as he felt his wife's gentle touch easing the damp, perspiration soaked hair out of his face. He felt ready to sleep right where he was, and might have dozed off next to her if it weren't for what he heard next.

"This has got to stop, Scabior. And the only way it's going to stop is if you have your tonsils removed. So I'm scheduling your surgery for tomorrow morning."

Her voice was so calm, so sympathetic and compassionate. And yet if he'd been awake enough to understand what she had said, it would have been enough to make him panic.

He opened his eyes, blinking slowly as he looked up at her through the haze of fever and pain that clouded his mind. "Wha?" he faintly moaned, not really sure what he was hearing. She couldn't have just said what he thought she said.

"You're getting your tonsils out first thing tomorrow morning," said Draconius.

His tired eyes widened. "No," Scabior mumbled, his voice low and drowsy. "No, I'm fine. I don't need to 'ave my tonsils taken out. I don't need surgery."

He continued protesting her decision until his words dissolved into muttered nonsense, his tired body succumbing to the fever, pain and illness that had been threatening to overwhelm him for so long.

Draconius motioned for her daughter to come over. "Come here, Melody. Help me get him up. We need to get him home and put him to bed."

Melody went over to where her mother was sitting in the snow, supporting her father as he slumped against his wife, shivering and moaning, still insisting that he was fine and didn't need an operation. Together the two witches lifted him up onto his feet. He was shaking so badly that Draconius feared he was going to collapse and pass out.

"Mum, what's wrong with him?" Melody asked, giving her father a worried look as he took a deep breath and released a horribly wretched, rasping cry that was somewhere between a sob and a half strangled scream, his body shaking uncontrollably as he tried to pull away from them.

Dear Merlin, he sounded like he was crying...

With one hand Draconius began stroking Scabior's hair, her other hand around his wrist, holding him steady and making sure he couldn't apparate without bringing her along with him.

"Oh dear. I was afraid he'd react this way," said Draconius. "Your father has a horrible fear of surgery and all things related to the healing arts. I'm sure he knows he needs this, but can't bring himself to have it done because of the overwhelming phobia he has."

"You mean dad is afraid of something?" said Melody, looking at her mother in disbelief.

She'd never known her father to be afraid of anything. In her eyes, Scabior was the strongest, bravest man she knew. It was hard for her to believe that he, of all people, was scared of having his tonsils removed.

Draconius continued stroking and petting Scabior's hair as she tried to calm him down. But instead of relaxing like he usually did, he flinched at her touch and tried jerking his arm out of her grasp.

"Hush now. Settle down, Scabior," said Draconius, as another ragged cry escaped his lips. "You're going to make your throat hurt worse if you keep that up. Melody," she turned to her daughter, "take my arm. We need to get him home as soon as possible. I can't risk him running off in the shape he's in."

Melody gave her father one last worried look before taking hold of her mother's arm. Draconius then tightened her hold on her husband, and vanished on the spot, taking Melody and Scabior along with her.

.oOo.

It wasn't easy hauling Scabior through the snow and up the front steps into the house. Illness and exhaustion had weakened him to the point where he could barely stand or walk, and they had to practically carry him into the house.

Once they got him inside, Draconius forced a dose of calming draught down his throat then put him to bed. Within a few minutes the potion began to work, helping to soothe Scabior's shattered nerves. Draconius then sat down on the edge of the bed, and told him to open his mouth so she could examine his throat.

He opened his mouth, allowing her to examine him, and right away she noticed that the swelling in his throat had progressed to the point where his tonsils were almost completely obstructing his airway. There were also raw, bleeding patches on his tonsils, with streaks of blood visible between the spots of yellowish pus that coated the back of his throat.

Scabior could tell by the look on her face that what she saw wasn't good. He was in hopes there was still a chance he could avoid having an operation. But when he saw her frown and shake her head, he knew it was all over.

"You look worse than ever, Scabior," said Draconius. "And I see that your tonsils have started bleeding. Probably because of all the yelling and fussing you were doing back in Hogsmeade."

"Bleeding?" Scabior croaked, holding his throat.

"Your tonsils are fragile, and they can bleed if you're rough on them while you're sick."

"Wha does it matter?" Scabior muttered in a low, dejected tone. "I won't 'ave them much longer anyway."

Draconius reached towards him. "Scabior..."

"Don't." Scabior brushed her hand away as she reached to stroke his hair. "Just leave me alone."

He rolled over in bed, his back towards her as he stared at the wall. Silence stretched between them, and several seconds passed before Draconius spoke.

"You'll be fine, Scabior. It's a very simple procedure. A couple weeks rest and you'll be good as new."

Weeks? Oh, that sounded lovely.

Scabior groaned and pulled the blankets over his head, curling up in a ball on his side. Maybe, if he closed his eyes, he might wake up somewhere far away from this.


	3. Chapter 3

The night before the operation was the longest night Draconius had ever spent with him. Scabior was restless, fitfully tossing and turning in his sleep. He stopped breathing several times, almost losing consciousness once when Draconius had difficulty getting him to start breathing again. His fever spiked, rising to 103°, and he spent half the night alternating between shivering and sweating, until he finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep some time after three in the morning.

He awoke at half past nine in the morning, his lashes lifting to reveal tired, glassy grey-blue eyes. He lay still, gazing around the room in the dim light of the cold December morning.

Scabior didn't see his wife, and for a moment he wondered where she had gone. He knew she'd been beside him throughout the night, but now she was no where to be found.

Maybe this was a dream. One very real, agonizing dream that had trapped him and made him suffer for countless nights. Maybe everything he'd experienced yesterday was a dream, maybe none of this was real...

Scabior slipped one hand out from under the blankets, massaging his throat as he stared up at the ceiling. 'If this is all a dream, then why does my throat 'urt so much?' he thought. 'Why is it still so 'ard for me to breathe?'

He turned his head as he heard the bedroom door creak, and saw his wife enter the room. She had a tray in her hands, and in the pale morning sunlight Scabior saw a roll of gauze, an oversized pair of tweezers that slightly resembled muggle forceps, and a bottle of some dark, sinister looking potion on the tray.

"Oh no..." Scabior moaned, closing his eyes and turning away from the sight of the objects on the tray.

Why couldn't he wake up from this dream? Why couldn't he escape this nightmare?

"Scabior, you're awake," said Draconius, setting the tray down on the nightstand.

He opened his eyes, his pulse accelerating from nervous anxiety as he looked back at her. "I don't want to do this," he whispered.

"I know, sweetie," Draconius soothed, her tone sympathetic and kind. She sat down on the side of the bed, and took his hand in both of hers.

He was feverishly hot to the touch, his hair drenched with perspiration. She ran her fingers over the back of his hand, gently caressing his warm flesh in an effort to keep him calm.

"I promise it'll be okay," she told him. "It's not that bad. And afterwards, you should be completely free of sore throats. You'll also be able to breathe easier and sleep better at night." When this didn't seem to improve his mood, Draconius added, "You can eat all the ice cream you want, Scabior." But her husband still looked discouraged.

Draconius sighed. Nothing she tried was working. Scabior remained despondent, not even looking at her as she spoke.

She let go of his hand, placing it atop the covers on the bed. He hesitantly glanced over as she reached for the bottle on the tray. Scabior hadn't noticed the spoon on the tray before. And as he watched, she uncorked the bottle and poured some of the potion into the spoon.

"Sweetie," Draconius said softly, holding the spoon infront of him. "I need you to take this. It's a sleeping draught. It'll put you to sleep for the operation."

Scabior looked at the spoon in her hand, then back up at her. He was silently debating in his mind whether or not he should go through with this.

"Please, Scabior," Draconius said, the look in her eyes pleading with him, almost begging him to take the potion. "I promise I will take good care of you. All you have to do is take this. Then it'll all be over when you wake up."

'If I could just close my eyes,' Scabior thought. 'If only I could wake up somewhere else...'

Slowly, ever so slowly, his lips parted, allowing her to feed him the potion. She slipped the spoon into his mouth, and he could feel the potion beginning to take effect just seconds after swallowing the dark, murky liquid.

'I want to close my eyes,' he thought, as the images before him blurred and began to fade in and out of focus. 'I want to wake up somewhere else... Somewhere far, far away...'

The room was growing dark. His eyes began to close as he felt the potion pulling him down into a deep, dreamless sleep. He was tired of fighting, tired of always being sick and miserable. Whatever lay on the other side of this couldn't possibly be worse than the suffering he had endured for so long.

'Just let me sleep...' he thought. 'I'm so tired. Let me wake up somewhere else...'

Scabior closed his eyes, and within a matter of seconds he was sound asleep.

Once he was asleep, Draconius began by conjuring a bubble filled with clean, fresh oxygenated air that floated lazily in the air over the bed. She then waved her wand at it and said, " _Spiratio cuniculatus."_

The bubble began to flex and stretch, changing shape as it morphed into a long, slender tube-like shape. Draconius motioned with her wand, sending the slender tube into Scabior's left nostril, effectively creating a breathing tube to help him breathe during the operation.

 _"Aeris fluent,"_ Draconius said, moving her wrist in a circular motion. The lower end of the tube that had been threaded into Scabior's airway opened, allowing a constant stream of oxygenated air to flow into his lungs.

Draconius held her wand over his mouth and softly murmured, " _Hiulcus_." The spell caused Scabior's mouth to open wide, giving her a clear view of his infected tonsils.

She picked up the roll of gauze, and cut off a piece of it using a cutting hex. Draconius then used the long pair of tweezers to pack the gauze into Scabior's throat, just below the base of his tongue. This throat packing was used to prevent blood from seeping into his stomach, which could easily make him sick and cause vomiting after surgery.

The breathing tube remained intact as Draconius carefully tucked the wad of gauze into his throat, which was no easy task seeing as how his tonsils were so badly swollen they almost completely blocked his airway. The tube was durable enough that it wasn't likely to tear if she accidentally poked it while packing Scabior's throat.

Now that everything was in order, it was time to begin the operation.

She began by using the oversized pair of tweezers to grasp his left tonsil, gently pulling the swollen lump of flesh medially. Draconius slipped her wand into his mouth and softly muttered, " _Diffindo antias."_

Using a severing charm, she began to carefully cut away the inflamed tissues that were crowding his throat. She moved her wand with the skill and precision of a muggle surgeon, her wand acting as a scapal as she worked to remove the ailing Snatcher's inflamed tonsils.

Every now and then she would pause in her work, using her wand to siphon off any excess saliva or blood that accumulated in the back of his throat. This made the operation progress slower than it would have gone in a muggle hospital. For although her wand was all she needed to perform the the operation, the lack of surgical tools and equipment slowed her progress.

It took some time, but after about twenty minutes Draconius finally completed the process of removing Scabior's tonsils. She then uttered a brief incantation that caused the tip of her wand to burn with intense heat, so that she could cauterize the bleeding areas where his tonsils had been. And as an added precaution, she decided to remove his adenoids as well, just to make sure this sort of thing wasn't likely to happen again.

Draconius knew that Scabior's problems weren't entirely due to his recurrent bouts of tonsillitis. Although his tonsils were the main cause of his health issues, he was showing signs that his adenoids were bothering him as well, such as difficulty breathing through his nose and chronic ear and sinus infections.

Draconius sighed as she looked down at her sleeping husband. "You're a mess, aren't you, sweetie? Well, don't worry. I'm going to take good care of you, and fix it so that you won't have to go through this again."

The process was a bit more complex, because the adenoids weren't directly visible or as easily accessible as the tonsils were. She had to focus the energy of her spell into a very small sphere of light, then direct the ball of magical energy into the area above the roof of his mouth where his adenoids were located.

Within a matter of seconds blood began pouring from the back of his nose into his throat, soaking the packing Draconius had put in place before the operation. She waved her wand over him, and removed a mass of swollen, bloody tissue from the back of his throat. She then cauterized the bleeding area where his adenoids had been, flushed his throat with some water and siphoned off the bloody fluids with her wand. When it was all over, Draconius removed the packing from his throat, as well as the breathing tube, then waved her wand over him, removing the spell that held his mouth open for the operation.

Draconius inhaled deeply, sighing with relief now that the operation was over. She glanced around the room, then looked back at her sleeping husband.

This wasn't the ideal setting to perform surgery. She knew that, but didn't have much of a choice. To the best of her knowledge, Scabior had only been in a hospital once in his entire life, and that was when their daughter was born. And even then he'd managed to get himself lost when he stepped outside the delivery room to get some air. He then had a panic attack, collapsed in the hallway, and had to be hauled back to the delivery room by a pair of healers, who found him semiconscious and in a state of nervous collapse on the west wing of the third floor.

Draconius would never forget the way the healer looked at her and said, "Is this yours, ma'am?" as they sat Scabior's half-unconscious body in a chair in the corner of the room. At the time she thought Scabior was simply nervous about the birth of their child. She didn't know that he had a fear of hospitals and most things related to the healing arts.

She asked him about it before, wondering how long he'd had this fear and if he'd ever been in a hospital before their daughter was born. "You were born, Scabior. So you had to have been in a hospital."

"I was born in my parent's bedroom," said Scabior. "My parents didn't think it was necessary to go to the 'ospital just to 'ave a baby. They brought in a midwife who assisted my mother during the delivery, an I was born right there in my parent's bed. Which seems rather fitting, don't you think? Might as well give birth to your child on the same bed 'e was conceived in."

If she had tried to get him to go to the hospital to have the operation, Scabior would have likely suffered another panic attack, and would have had to have been sedated just to get him out the front door. It wasn't the sort of behavior one would expect from a Snatcher, but Scabior was human just like everyone else. He wasn't perfect, and he had flaws and fears like other people do. She was lucky she got him to agree to the operation in the first place, and knew that it wasn't a good idea to press her luck with a patient who had such an extreme fear of medical procedures.

.oOo.

Melody was sitting on the floor outside her parents' bedroom when the door opened and her mother walked out into the hall.

"It's all over, Melody. Do you want to come see him now?"

The teenaged witch scrambled up off the floor, moving past her mother and into the room where her father was asleep in bed.

"He's going to be asleep for a while longer," said Draconius, turning and following behind her daughter. "But you're welcome to sit with me while we wait for him to wake up."

Melody looked down at her father as she slowly approached the bed. He was sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and falling with deep, easy breathing, and that alone was a relief, considering all the nights he'd struggled and fought to breathe.

"It's really over?" Melody asked, glancing back at her mother.

He'd been sick for so long. Practically every memory she had of him growing up was of Scabior being sick with something. From her fifth birthday party to the summer barbecue with the Malfoys, he'd missed out on so much because of his frequent illnesses. It was going to be very different now that Scabior wasn't going to be sick all the time.

Draconius nodded. "It's over, sweetie. However he's going to be in a lot of pain for the next several days. It's going to feel like the worst sore throat he's ever had, and he won't be able to talk for a while. So it's going to be a lot quieter around here while your father is recovering."

Melody sat down on the foot of the bed, watching as her father relaxed in deep, peaceful slumber. Several minutes passed. Scabior shifted slightly in his sleep, then rolled over onto his side and continued sleeping.

"When do you think he'll wake up?" Melody asked.

"Hard to say," Draconius replied. She eased the covers up under his chin, then fluffed his pillow to make him more comfortable. "He's very tired. His body is exhausted from constantly being ill. It wouldn't surprise me if he kept sleeping even after the potion I gave him wears off."

"Does he get to eat ice cream? I've always heard that people who have their tonsils out can eat all the ice cream they want."

"That isn't exactly true," Draconius said at length. "He can have sorbet and other water and juice based ice creams, but no dairy products because they create phlegm, which causes the patient to cough and clear their throat. Your father doesn't need that while he's recovering from surgery."

Their attention was drawn back to Scabior as the Snatcher started to move and stir beneath the covers.

"Scabior?" Draconius said gently. "Are you awake, sweetie?"

He could hear them, but their voices lingered on the edge of his consciousness, somewhere far away. He was still deep in the distant land of sleep, and couldn't make out exactly what was being said.

"Scabior."

There it was again. Closer this time. That sweet, delicate voice he recognized as belonging to his wife.

"Dad, can you hear me?"

And Melody too.

They were getting closer. He thought he could just make out what was being said. The blackness slowly began to fade, and Scabior opened his eyes to see his wife and daughter gazing down at him.

"Yay! He's awake!" Melody cheered happily. "Welcome back to the land of the living, dad."

Scabior's gaze drifted from his daughter to his wife, who was smiling at him as she stood beside his bed. He was still feeling rather groggy, and it took him a minute process what was happening around him.

"There's my brave man," said Draconius. "How are you feeling?"

Scabior opened his mouth to speak, but not a single word escaped his lips, not even a whisper. He tried to swallow, and immediately regretted his decision as he felt an intense, burning pain in the back of his throat.

Draconius saw him grimace as he closed his eyes against the pain, his mouth opening slightly in wordless torment, and it was enough to answer her question.

"That's what I thought," she said, her care and concern showing in her sympathetic tone. "I'll get you something to help relieve the pain in a little while. You can't have anything right away due to the nauseating after effects some sleeping potions have."

Scabior had no idea how much pain he'd be in after the operation. It hurt just to breathe, his every breath burning like acid against the raw edges of his throat. He could neither breathe nor swallow without making the pain worse, and already he wished that he was still asleep, that he'd never awoken to this nightmare.

His wife started stroking his hair, speaking softly in an effort to take his mind off his discomfort.

"There there, sweetie. I know it hurts, but you'll feel better in the long run from having this done."

Even if he could speak, words were not enough to describe the sheer agony he felt. However the look on his face spoke volumes to her. She knew that inside he was screaming, and that the worst part of it was that he could not give voice to his pain, to release the torment that was welling up inside. Even victims of the Cruciatus curse could scream. But Scabior had no way to vent his misery.

Nothing in the world could have prepared him for this. And to think, his wife had told him it wasn't that bad.

'Wha does she know?' Scabior thought bitterly. 'She's never been through this. She doesn't know 'ow it feels to 'ave 'er guts ripped out through 'er throat.'

His daughter scooted sideways on the bed, crawling across the mattress on her hands and knees, then laid down beside Scabior so that she was facing him in bed. She too saw the expression on his face and read what it meant. She could see that he was miserable.

"I'm sorry you feel so bad, daddy," said Melody. "We love you, though. We just want you to feel better."

Scabior moaned, the sound coming out as no more than a breathy sigh. He couldn't take anymore of this. He closed his eyes, letting the peaceful blackness surround him, pulling him down and taking him away from his pain.


	4. Chapter 4

It had now been three days since Scabior's operation, and the head Snatcher wasn't doing so well. He ate very little and slept even less, often waking up in the middle of the night because his throat hurt so much he couldn't sleep.

Under normal circumstances, sleep was the best thing for someone who was recovering from illness or surgery. But Scabior's throat dried out while he slept, causing the pain to intensify. He soon lost the ability to sleep through the night without waking up in tremendous pain.

Nights were long, with Draconius waking Scabior up every forty-five minutes to have him sip some water before letting him go back to sleep.

She put her hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake and softly calling his name to rouse him from his slumber. His eyes opened slowly, gazing into the darkness of their dimly lit bedroom. She then placed her hand beneath his head, raising him up off the mound of pillows as she held a glass of water to his lips.

"Scabior," she said softly. "Come on, sweetie. You have to drink something before you can go back to sleep."

Scabior drank the water, wincing as each sip stung the back of his throat. He could barely force the liquid past the inflamed tissues, his throat protesting against his actions as he took another sip, the muscles contracting with intense pain every time he swallowed.

He didn't know that having his tonsils out would lead to this, that he would need to be woken up several times throughout the night and fed small amounts of liquids to keep his throat from drying out. Scabior thought that once the operation was over he'd be left alone to rest. But recovery from this sort of procedure wasn't as easy as he thought.

Throughout his recovery, Draconius constantly stressed the importance of staying hydrated, telling him that he needed to drink plenty of fluids to keep his throat moist. One night Scabior grew tired of her always pestering him, waking him up every couple of minutes and making him drink something. He pushed the glass of water away, then rolled over and went back to sleep. But the pain he felt upon waking up had him scrambling for the glass of water his wife had placed on the nightstand.

Draconius stood back and watched as Scabior reached for the glass of water, a frantic look in his eyes as though he were about to die of thirst if he didn't drink something right away. "You'll learn to listen to me eventually, Scabior," she said, frowning in annoyance as she crossed her arms over her chest. "And if you want to get through this with as little discomfort as possible, I strongly suggest that you listen to me."

Scabior glanced at his wife as he raised the glass of water to his lips, taking a sip and nearly choking as he tried to force the liquid past the irritated tissues of his throat. The first sip went down rough, but it helped soothe his sore throat and made it easier for him to keep drinking.

"Do you feel better now?" Draconius asked.

Scabior nodded, hesitating slightly before taking another sip.

"I can get you some ice chips if you want. They're good to chew on, and will help keep your throat from drying out."

He nodded again, taking another sip of water before setting the glass on the nightstand.

Draconius smiled, nodding in approval. "Good. I'm glad you've finally decided to listen to me."

Scabior sighed and leaned back against the pillows on the bed. There were dark circles under his eyes, his wild and unruly hair sticking out at odd angles, the crimson strands tangling with the brown. He had no strength left, his body passing beyond the point of exhaustion from lack of sleep.

"Go to sleep, sweetie," said Draconius. "I'll wake you in a little while so you can drink some more water. And tomorrow we'll give the ice chips a try. I think you'll find that ice is a better, easier way to keep your scabs from drying out than constantly sipping water."

Scabior's eyes had just begun to close when suddenly he looked over at her with a confused expression on his face. Draconius wondered what was wrong, and then she remembered that she hadn't explained to him how the healing process worked when someone was recovering from a tonsillectomy.

"Are you confused because I used the word 'scabs' instead of 'throat', Scabior?"

Scabior nodded.

"When you get your tonsils taken out, your throat heals like any other wound. Which means scabs start to form in the back of your throat as you heal." She paused, taking a moment to conjure a mirror that she held up in front of him so he could see his reflection. "Would you like to take a look?" Another flick of her wrist and her wand flared to life, shining brightly in the dimly lit bedroom.

Curious about what he might see, Scabior leaned forward slightly and opened his mouth. He then quickly recoiled in horror at the sight of the white patches that had formed in the back of his throat.

"What's wrong?" Draconius asked. "Don't like what you see in there, Scabior?"

Scabior held his throat, blinking in surprise as he slumped back against the pillows. He was disgusted by what he'd seen, as well as shocked by how different his throat looked now that his tonsils had been removed.

He was used to the sight of the inflamed tissues crowding his throat. Even when he wasn't sick his tonsils were permanently engorged, and his throat was almost always sore. But now there was nothing. Just a thick coating of white material that had tightly adhered to the empty recesses along the sides of his throat.

"I know it's not a pretty sight, but you won't always look like that," said Draconius, as she extinguished the light in her wand. "The scabs start to come off around seven to ten days. It's a slow process that takes time to complete. But within a few weeks you'll be fully healed and feeling better than ever."

'But 'ow am I supposed to make it until then?' Scabior thought. 'It would be a different story if I could sleep through the night without getting woken up every forty-five minutes. Or if my throat wasn't raw an burning.'

Draconius could tell by the look on his face that he was miserable. "Scabior," she said softly. "Do you want me to try giving you a stronger pain relieving potion?"

He nodded, not even looking at her as he gazed down at the blanket on the bed.

"Alright, sweetie. Tomorrow morning I'll start you on a stronger potion, and we'll try using ice to help relieve the pain. And I think there's a spell I can use that'll help ease some of the discomfort. But for now you should get some rest."

.oOo.

Scabior awoke at half past eight in the morning, his wife holding his head up off the pillow as she helped him sip some water.

"Good morning, sweetie," said Draconius, her voice gentle and kind as she spoke. "You ready to try something new that'll hopefully make you feel better?"

Scabior nodded, his eyes drifting closed as she laid his head on the pillow. He was so tired he could barely stay awake.

Draconius reached for his plaid scarf, which had been hung over the bedpost, and cast a freezing charm on it. The charm made the fabric feel very cold and partially crystalized the material, making it slightly stiff and cold like ice. She wrapped the cold scarf around his neck, then stood back and waited to see what his reaction would be.

Scabior's body visibly relaxed, a content smile spreading across his face as he sank back into the soft mound of pillows.

This was what Draconius called an "ice collar." She often used it on her patients who were recovering from getting their tonsils out. It was a substitute for ice packs in the wizarding world, and the ice cold material helped reduce some of the pain and inflammation in Scabior's throat.

"There we go. You look much better now, sweetie," said Draconius. "Now hold on a minute while I get you a different pain relieving potion."

Draconius got into her medicine chest and brought out a bottle containing a dark, amber colored liquid. This was the strongest pain reliever she had. If this didn't ease his suffering and bring him some relief then nothing would.

She sat down on the side of the bed, and poured some of the potion into a spoon. Scabior could see what looked like minute flecks of gold shimmering in the thick, syrupy liquid. He'd never seen a potion like this before, and he wondered what was in it that made it sparkle like it had been filled with glitter.

"It might be difficult for you to swallow this since it's so thick," said Draconius, holding the spoon out in front of him. "But if you can manage to get some of this in your system, you should start feeling better soon."

She fed him the potion, which he struggled with momentarily before swallowing. The thickened liquid slid down his throat, where it began to work seconds after settling in his stomach, taking the edge off his discomfort and relieving some of his pain.

"Feeling better?" Draconius asked.

Scabior nodded, then mouthed the words "thank you."

"There, you see, Scabior? I told you this wouldn't be so bad. All we had to do was find the right potion to help relieve the pain. Now, how about some breakfast? I can get you some more ice cream if you want."

Scabior didn't look too enthused. He liked having his meals brought to him while he rested in bed, but the thought of consuming a meal made his throat constrict with pain.

His wife saw that he wasn't interested in eating, and tried reassuring him that everything would be alright now that he'd started the new potion. She then left the room, returning a few minutes later with a bowl of sorbet.

To her, ice cream and sorbet were the same thing, they were just made with different ingredients. This was why Draconius referred to sorbet as ice cream, even though she specifically stated that he was not to have ice cream while he was recovering, and had been giving him sorbet along with an assortment of other easy to swallow foods.

"You ought to consider yourself lucky, Scabior," said Draconius, taking a seat beside him in bed. "Not everyone gets to eat ice cream for breakfast. But since you've had your tonsils taken out, you're a special case."

Scabior looked down at the bowl of multi-colored sorbet, watching as she dipped a spoon into the fruit flavored confection and prepared to feed it to him. He preferred fruit and fruit flavored foods over the milky taste of ice cream anyway, and his stomach produced an audible growl at the sight of his favorite frozen treat.

"Uh-huh. You see? I knew you were hungry," said Draconius, smiling at him as he grinned sheepishly. "Now let's get some food into that empty belly."

She spooned a portion of the sorbet into his mouth, taking her time and waiting patiently for him to swallow each mouthful. The first few bites were hard to swallow, even with the new potion he was taking. But the coolness of the sorbet helped soothe his throat. And after a little while Scabior found it much easier to eat the rest of his breakfast.

Maybe his wife was right. This wasn't so bad after all. The new pain relieving potion, along with the cold scarf around his neck and the sweet tasting sorbet, helped make the pain bearable. It didn't make it go away, but it was now at a level he could tolerate.

'I could get used to having room service,' Scabior thought as she fed him another spoonful of sorbet.

Draconius paused, the spoon halfway to his mouth. Was he smiling at her? Maybe the new potion was making him a little loopy. Really strong painkillers had a tendency to do that.

After breakfast, Draconius brought him a cup of ice chips. Scabior slightly chewed one of the chips, then held it against the back of his throat. The cool ice felt good against his sore throat, and helped keep his throat comfortably numb after the sorbet had helped relieve some of the pain and swelling.

Draconius could tell by the relaxed expression on his face that he was feeling better, as he lay back in bed chewing the ice she brought him.

'I can get through this,' Scabior thought, reaching for the cup of ice and placing a few more chips in his mouth. 'It's painful, but it beats 'aving tonsillitis for the rest of my life.'

They continued like this for the next couple of days, with Scabior chewing ice chips, sipping water and apple juice, and eating popsicles and sorbet to help soothe his throat, until his wife began adding other things to his diet.

She gave him applesauce, and mashed potatoes that had been watered down with chicken broth until it became a thin potato soup. Scabior was especially fond of the potato soup, because it was easy to swallow and satisfied his hunger better than the applesauce and sorbet. However Melody wasn't pleased with the type of foods Draconius had been serving her father.

"This is cruel," said Melody, frowning in disgust as she watched her mother fill a bowl with mashed potato soup. "Not to mention really gross."

"What?" Draconius looked up from pouring the soup into a bowl. "What's wrong with it?"

"Look at this slop. Applesauce, mashed potato soup. You've put him on a baby food diet, mum. You couldn't have waited until after the holidays to do this to him?"

"He wouldn't have been able to eat the regular foods I make during Christmas anyway," Draconius reminded her. "Besides, he's been putting this off long enough. It's better that it's over now."

.oOo.

It had now been one full week since he'd had his tonsils removed, and Scabior was feeling much better. He could sleep through most of the night without needing to be woken up as often. He was eating more and getting more rest, which greatly improved his mood as he continued to recover from his operation.

Sometimes Scabior would venture out of bed, standing outside on the porch for a bit of fresh air, then later coming back inside and dozing off on the couch in the living room.

Draconius let him sleep wherever he wanted. When he slept on the couch, she brought him a pillow and his favorite blue and white plaid blanket to help make him more comfortable. She knew that rest was the best thing for him, and was glad he was getting more sleep.

On the eighth day of his recovery Scabior suffered an apparent relapse, waking up in the middle of the night with an intense, burning pain in his throat. This pain wasn't like what he'd felt before. This felt more like the searing pain of a raw open wound.

At first Draconius thought his throat was dry, and that all he needed was a drink of water. But when she offered him a glass of water he refused to drink it.

"I can't," Scabior whispered faintly.

This was the first time Scabior had spoken since the operation, and he was surprised to hear how different his voice sounded.

"Wha's wrong with my voice?" he asked, a mixture of confusion and concern on his face. The thick, nasal quality of his voice made it sound like he had come down with a bad head cold.

"Scabior, you're talking!" said Draconius. She was thrilled to hear her husband's voice again, even though it did sound rather strange.

"Yes, but wha's wrong? I don't sound right." His voice cracked, and he started coughing. He covered his mouth with his hand, his fingers coming away with threads of clear saliva dotted with flecks of blood and bits of white material.

Scabior was horrified by the mess on his fingers. "Wha's 'abbening? Draconius, wha's wrong?"

"Shh, don't talk so much, sweetie." She pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand, and used it to clean the mixture of blood and saliva off his fingers. "Your scabs are starting to come off. It's perfectly normal, Scabior. It also explains why your pain has gotten worse."

This was too much. After everything he'd been through Scabior thought he was getting better, only to discover that his recovery was far from complete.

"The reason why your voice sounds strange is because you still need time to heal," Draconius continued. "Your throat is still swollen, and it's effecting your ability to speak. But that should clear up in a few weeks."

"I sound like I'b got a bad code," said Scabior. He did not look pleased with this development. He just wanted to start feeling better. But every time he thought he was getting better he had another set back.

"Poor puppy," said Draconius, easing his hair out of his face.

"Don't call be dat," Scabior grumbled, his speech slowed as he struggled to get his words out. He was having a difficult time talking around the swelling in his throat, and often got stuck trying to pronounce certain words, trying several times before he could finish his sentence.

Draconius pressed a glass of water into his hands. "Drink, Scabior. The more you drink the better you'll feel, and it'll help you recover faster."

Scabior looked at the glass of water in his hands, wondering just how on earth he was going to drink it. He could feel the loose scabs move whenever he swallowed, giving him the feeling that something was stuck in his throat. If he could he would have peeled the scabs off the back of his throat, but he seriously doubted if that was a good idea.

He tried taking a sip of water, and felt the liquid tugging at the loosened scabs as it passed over his throat. Seconds after he swallowed he went into another coughing fit, which dislodged several flakes of the white material that lined his throat.

Scabior gasped, trying to catch his breath, the coughing fit and intense, searing pain robbing him of his breath. He didn't even care that a thin trail of watery saliva had escaped his lips to trickle down his chin. He was in so much pain that all he could think about was how much his throat hurt.

When it became apparent that he couldn't drink anymore, Draconius took the glass and set it on the nightstand, then wiped the saliva off his chin with a tissue. "I know you're in a lot of pain right now, but it's almost over with, Scabior," she said. "It's normal for the pain to reach its second peak around this time, and your throat is going to be very sore again for the next several days. But afterwards you won't feel quite as bad as you have been."

Scabior sighed and collapsed against the mound of pillows on the bed. 'Just a couple more days,' he told himself. 'Just a little while longer an this will all be over.'

"You've been through a lot these last couple of days," his wife said, reaching over and gently stroking his hair, watching him relax as she ran her fingers through his tangled red and brown hair. "But I bet you'll be glad you had this done, once you've healed and can put everything behind you."

"I already am," said Scabior, speaking slowly in a low, hushed tone as he looked over at his wife, his sentences broken by awkward pauses as he struggled to speak. "Dis 'as been...one of the worst experiences of my life, but...I don't regret 'aving dis done. An I'll tell you someting else... I don't know...if body parts can suffer eternal damnation...but I 'ope my tonsils are rotting in 'ell for wha dey put me through."

Draconius couldn't help but laugh. Her husband seemed to be feeling better already, despite the pain he was in. He was in good spirits, knowing that the end was in sight and that he wouldn't have to deal with being sick all the time. She smiled at him, and was pleased to see a grin spread across his tired face.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day found Scabior laying on the couch in the living room, his blue and white plaid blanket draped over him as he lay on his side with his back towards the room. He'd been laying there for over an hour, miserable and wanting to go to sleep, but found that sleep was impossible while his throat itched and burned.

At one point in time he tried putting his finger in his mouth and picking at the scabs in his throat. The scabs were driving him mad, like a loose tooth that still needed time before it was ready to come out.

"Quit picking," said Draconius, slapping his wrist to get him to leave his scabs alone.

Scabior started and quickly withdrew his finger from his mouth. He then glanced over his shoulder at his wife, who was glaring at him with her hands on her hips.

Melody looked up from organizing her chocolate frog cards and grinned. "Busted."

"This isn't funny, young lady," said Draconius, as her daughter started to laugh. "He could cause serious bleeding if he keeps picking at those things."

Scabior sighed. He'd tried being patient throughout his recovery, enduring pain and sleepless nights, waiting for the day he would be well again. But his patience was wearing thin as he began his second week of recovery.

"Do you know what I think he needs?" said Melody thoughtfully. "He needs something fun to take his mind off how shi - "

"Language, Melody," her mother interrupted.

"- how bad he feels."

This got Scabior's attention, as he rolled over onto his back, looking at his daughter who was sitting across from him on the living room floor. Draconius was also curious as to what her daughter had in mind.

"We never had Christmas because of dad's operation," Melody continued. "So maybe we could have a late Christmas and give each other gifts. That ought to make him feel better."

Melody was smiling now, and her mother was pleased with her suggestion. But when they turned to Scabior to see what his reaction would be, he looked more miserable than ever.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Draconius asked. She thought he would be happy to have Christmas with his family, spending time with them while they gave each other gifts.

"I neber got you a present," said Scabior, looking rather crestfallen. "I tried, Draconius. But you saw wha abbened... I was too sick. I didn't get you anyting."

Poor Scabior still sounded stuffed up from his operation. It was all Melody could do not to laugh at the way he sounded, clamping a hand over her mouth and snorting as her mother shot her an angry glance before looking back at Scabior.

"That isn't true, Scabior," said Draconius. "You may not realize it, but you already gave me the best, most precious gift I could ask for."

"An wha's dat?" Scabior asked, in his stuffy, nasal voice.

"Our daughter," Draconius replied. "You gave me a beautiful baby girl, who has grown into a lovely young lady. And do you know what I gave you for Christmas?"

Scabior shook his head. It hurt his throat to talk, so he tried not to speak if he didn't have to.

"I gave you your health, Scabior. And one of the greatest gifts that we could ever get is seeing you healthy again."

Melody's expression brightened when she heard that, and a smile lit her face as she looked at her parents. Her mother loved her enough to consider her the best gift she'd ever received, and her father had been given the gift of good health. That alone was reason enough to celebrate, regardless of whether or not the holiday season had already come and gone.

Scabior thought about what Draconius said, and he realized that she was right, that his holiday wasn't ruined simply because he hadn't been able to buy his wife a present. He had his health, and he had a loving family that cared about him. There was one thing, though, that he still wanted. One very simple thing that he hadn't had in days. And although he didn't say it, Melody knew exactly what it was he wanted.

"Mum," said Melody. "Can we go to Hogsmeade? I want to buy dad a Christmas present."

And so, later that day, Melody came home with a present for her father. She even had it gift wrapped, with bright blue wrapping paper that had moving pictures of reindeer on it.

Scabior took a moment to admire the neatly wrapped present, watching as the reindeer on the wrapping paper frolicked playfully in the snow. He knew that Draconius must have wrapped his gift for Melody, because every time she picked up a roll of wrapping paper and spell-o-tape it inevitably led to a big mess.

He peeled off the wrapping paper, revealing a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans beneath the colorful wrapping.

This was not the sort of gift he was expecting to get. He looked from his daughter to his wife then back again, not sure of what to say.

"Well?" said Melody. "What do you think? I know you haven't been able to eat regular meals since you had your tonsils taken out. So I thought this would be a good way for you to enjoy normal foods again. And this is a special box of Every Flavor Beans. It only contains normal flavors, like chicken and blueberry pie, with none of that gross crap like puke and earwax."

Scabior looked at his wife. "An you're okay with me 'aving dis?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm." Draconius nodded. "I've given these to my patients when they're recovering from having their tonsils out. It's alright, so long as you only eat one at a time. And you have to take it slowly, chewing it a little then letting it mix with saliva until it becomes a liquid paste."

Scabior hesitated before opening the box. He craved something other than applesauce, soup and sorbet. But with the way his throat was still sensitive and sore, he wasn't sure if this was a good idea.

He opened the box, poking around inside until he found the one he wanted. It was blueberry pie flavor, which was Scabior's favorite. He placed the bean in his mouth, chewed it a few times, then squished it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. He waited a minute or two before chewing it again, enjoying the delicious taste as a content smile spread across his face.

His wife and daughter could tell just by looking at him that he was enjoying himself. He waited until the bean had dissolved into a mostly liquid paste, then swallowed it. It stung slightly when it touched the back of his throat, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

"It helps if you take a sip of water before swallowing," said Draconius.

Scabior tried another bean, this time taking a sip of water from the glass on the coffee table before swallowing. This made swallowing much easier, and helped wash the sweet paste down his throat with less pain and discomfort.

"If you pace yourself and only eat a few of those a day, it should be enough to last you through the rest of your recovery," said Draconius. "It's not something you should be eating all the time. Just have one or two of them every now and then when you're tired of living off soup and applesauce."

Scabior smiled. "Tank you." He put an arm around his daughter, pulled her close and gave her a hug. "You don't know 'ow much I'b wanted someting like dis."

"You're welcome, daddy." Melody then produced several packets of chocolate frog cards, and asked her father if he felt like playing a couple rounds of exploding snap. Scabior accepted her offer, and spent the rest of the morning playing exploding snap with his daughter.

Scabior's mood had greatly improved by the time he went to bed that night, and Draconius knew that a big part of helping him through his recovery was keeping his spirits up.

Draconius entered the bathroom just as Scabior finished brushing his teeth and was looking at his throat in the mirror over the sink. He'd gotten used to the sight of the white patches in his throat, and was in the habit of checking his throat every evening before bed to see how his recovery was progressing.

"Everything look alright in there?" Draconius asked, standing beside him as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror.

Scabior sighed. "It looks the same as it did yesterday."

"Just give it some time. It'll probably take a couple of days before you see a noticable difference." She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Come to bed, sweetie. I know you're feeling better, but you still need your rest."

Her fingers found the loose strands of hair that had fallen into his face, his hair still slightly damp after his shower. She curled his hair around her fingers, inhaling the fresh scent of soap and shampoo.

"Enjoying yourself, love?" Scabior softly whispered, grinning as he watched her play with his hair.

Draconius chuckled. "You still sound stuffed up."

"I doe. But dere's noting I can do about dat right now." Scabior yawned. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night and was feeling rather tired.

"Come on, sweetie," said Draconius, one arm around his shoulders as she walked him towards their bedroom. "Let's get you to bed."

.oOo.

One day faded into the next. Scabior rested and kept himself occupied by playing games of exploding snap with his daughter. He started getting out of bed more often, and was eventually able to hold brief conversations with his family during the third week of his recovery.

By that point in time his throat wasn't as sore as it had been during the first two weeks of his recovery. It felt more like a dull ache instead of the raw, burning pain he'd felt before. And as he recovered, his wife started adding soft foods to his diet, such as pudding, oatmeal, mashed potatoes and jello. Scabior graduated from potato soup to creamed soup, and was able to sleep through the night without needing to be woken up.

Scabior was fully healed one month after his surgery, and to celebrate Draconius decided to prepare a big Christmas dinner for him with all his favorite foods. Their holiday feast was about a month late, but Scabior didn't care. He was looking forward to spending time with his family and enjoying all the good foods he'd missed out on during the holidays.

This time with his family meant more to him than ever, because it wouldn't be long until he went back to work, and Melody would be returning to school in a few more days. So Scabior decided to make the most of his time with his family by going for a run through the woods with his daughter before dinner.

Melody laughed, running as fast as she could down the wide trail behind their house that led off into the woods. She glanced over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of the lynx that was chasing her before the animal leapt off the ground and onto the embankment.

The lynx ran alongside her, weaving between the bushes and trees that lined the edges of the embankment, never missing a beat as his paws pounded the snow covered earth, leaping over low hanging branches and running along the tops of rocks that jutted from the earth.

"No!" Melody cried, still laughing playfully as she made a sharp left and disappeared into the bushes, leaving the path and running downhill between a dense cluster of trees.

The lynx sprinted up the side of a downed tree, climbing higher as he leapt from branch to branch through the treetops. His movements were swift and fluid, flowing effortlessly like water as he glided across the branches. He had her in his sights now. It wouldn't be long until he caught up with her.

Melody kept running, branches scraping at her sides and leaves getting caught in her hair. She was determined to outrun him, to make it back before he did without getting caught. She put on an extra burst of speed, racing downhill through the snow. She could see their house in the distance, and a smile spread across her face.

'Almost there,' she thought. 'I'm almost home!'

She broke through the bushes, branches and twigs splintering into shattered fragments of wood as she ran. She only made it ten steps out of the trees when the lynx leapt from the overhanging branches, transforming itself in mid-air, and Melody was hit with the full weight of her father as he pounced on her from the treetops.

Melody let out a startled yelp as she hit the ground and went sliding across the snow. Scabior laughed, pulling out his wand and aiming it in her face. "An wha do we 'ave 'ere?" he said, grinning as he sat on his daughter, pinning her down in the snow. "Such a pretty little thing. Now wha I want to know is why a lovely girl such as yourself is on the run from the Ministry."

Melody struggled to claw her way out from under him, her fingers scraping through the snow, leaving furrows in the layer of fine, white powder that blanketed the earth. She thought it would be easy to run from him since he had just gotten over having surgery. But instead of being out of shape from spending so much time at home in bed, Scabior had more energy and enthusiasm then Melody had seen in years.

"So, you don't want to talk," Scabior continued. He shifted his position, one knee in the snow while the other dug into the small of her back. "That's alright. We 'ave ways of making you talk."

"Daddy, no, please!" Melody cried, scrabbling in the snow.

" _Rictusempra_!"

There was a flash of light, and Melody rolled over onto her side just as her father backed up off her. She doubled over, laughing hysterically until her sides hurt and tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Are you going to talk now?" Scabior spat, his wand still aimed at her as she rolled on the ground, laughing like a wild hyena.

"Yes, daddy," she managed between fits of uncontrollable laughter. "I'll talk, I'll talk! Just stop already!'

Scabior removed the spell, his daughter lying on her back, breathless from laughing so hard. She looked up at him, and silence stretched between them for the span of several heartbeats. A cold wind came up, tugging at the loose strands of red and brown hair that hung in Scabior's face. And then he smiled.

Scabior chuckled, reaching out and offering her his hand. "Come on, sweet'eart. Up you get."

Melody smiled back, taking his gloved hand and letting him help her off the ground. "It's good to see you're feeling better again, dad. I've missed running with you through the woods, and all the fun adventures we had together."

Scabior put his arm around his daughter as they walked back home together in the snow. "I've missed our little adventures too, pet," he said. "There really is no greater gift than family during the 'olidays. Or any day. An now tha I've got my 'ealth back, we can start 'aving outings like this more often."

"We could have done this sooner if you'd listened to mum."

"Yes, well better late than never, right? At least I finally got those damn things taken out an they won't be a problem anymore."

Melody rolled her eyes. This was Scabior, her dear old dad. He was incorrigible, he drank too much, and he was stubborn to a fault. But she loved him anyway, despite his many flaws. All that mattered was that he was happy and healthy again.

The moment he walked through the front door, Scabior could smell the delicious aroma of all foods his wife had made for dinner. Draconius had prepared a grand feast, with everything from roast beef and pumpkin pie to green and black olives, cranberry sauce, roasted carrots and potatoes, and of course, some of Scabior's favorite cinnamon fireball whiskey.

Draconius had just finished setting the table when her husband and daughter walked in.

"This looks lovely," said Scabior. He then slipped his arm around Draconius and pulled her in close for a kiss. "Thank you, love. For all of this an for everything you've done for me." Their lips met, and Draconius took Scabior by surprise when she deepened the kiss, practically forcing her tongue down his throat, with one hand behind his head as her fingers tangled in his thick, red and brown hair.

Scabior gasped, blinking in surprise when she finally let him go. His wife smirked and said, "Just checking to see how well you've recovered from your operation."

"Mum," Melody groaned. "Could you not snog dad right here in front of me in the kitchen? I'd like to enjoy my dinner this evening and you two are ruining my appetite."

"I wouldn't complain if I were you," said Scabior, grinning at his daughter. Tha's 'ow your mum got 'er Christmas present from me in the first place."

"Dad!"

"Alright you two. That's enough," said Draconius, her husband laughing at the disgusted look on Melody's face. "Let's settle down and eat. We haven't had a nice meal together as a family since before your father's operation."

Scabior had already sat down at the table before his wife had finished her sentence, and was now in the process of piling food on his plate. His wife smiled, watching as he heaped mounds of roast beef, carrots and cranberry sauce on his plate, then poured a generous amount of gravy over the roast beef and started eating.

He had second helpings of everything, grabbing handfuls of olives and stuffing his face with them between bites of roast beef, then washed it down with nearly half a bottle of whiskey.

"Have you had enough yet?" Draconius asked.

Scabior leaned back in his seat, his hands reaching for his waist as he unfastened his belt. 'No," he said. "Bring me another bottle of whiskey. An another slice of pie, with whipped cream on top this time."

When dinner was over, Scabior collapsed onto the couch with a groan, holding his swollen belly. He had a stomachache from eating too much, and he was slightly drunk. But as his eyes closed as he drifted off to sleep, Scabior felt better than he had in years.

Within a few short minutes Scabior was sound asleep, sleeping off the first decent meal he'd had in weeks, his daughter organizing her chocolate frog cards beside him on the floor, his wife tidying up the kitchen before joining her family in the living room.

Draconius went over to him and placed a kiss on his cheek, watching as a smile spread across Scabior's face as he slept. He was finally healthy. And with a little luck and proper care, he would stay that way for a very long time, for he had his loving wife to look after him. And no matter what she would always be there for him. Because they were a family, in sickness and in health, loving each other from Christmas on into the new year and beyond.


End file.
